Feel Again
by orange-skye
Summary: Violet Harmon has been dead for a year and six months. This is the story of what happens to her, and the other inhabitants of the Murder House, after the last episode of the first season of American Horror Story. Love, hate, disdain, potential forgiveness . . . it's all here. Rated M for later chapters. (This summary sucks, just read it!)


**Author's Note: Set a year or so after the last episode of Murder House. Violet and her parents are all dead. Violet still has not spoken to Tate, who has tried a few times to talk to her only to be shot down. The following are basically a few of Violet's current thoughts/emotions.**

**This is my first fanfiction on this site, so go easy on me please!**

* * *

Sometimes I like to pretend that this is all a dream. Even now, a year later, I still find myself believing that I'm sleeping, dreaming, and any moment I'm going to wake up in my bed and know that I'm alive. Sometimes I _do_, I feel like it cannot possibly be real. So I get up and go outside and run to the road, desperately trying to . . .find myself? I don't know. It never happens though. The road and trees and other houses always disappear and I end up back in my room or in the hallway. I'm stuck within the same four walls (so to speak) with no escape but the ability to not be seen. Which is great, don't get me wrong, but what's the point of being invisible when you can't really, truly be invisible? I remember when I was younger I always wanted my superpower to be the ability to make myself invisible. Also, to fly, but for me those two went hand-in-hand. Now, I really can be invisible. Anytime I want in fact. Except I always feel eyes on me, no matter what. No matter where I am in the house, I can still feel their presence. Not even just the people. It's as though this house, this hell on Earth, has eyes of it's own. Eyes that never close. Omniscient.

I'm a lonely person, I always have been. It's a fact that I almost came to terms with when I was alive. The fact that I would always feel at least a little bit alone. That was okay, for the most part. I was as okay with it as someone could be. Now? Now I'm stuck in this never-ending, ever-expanding loneliness. A loneliness that I have never, ever felt. Which is crazy, you know, because I kind of thought I had already been through the 9 circles of Hell. Wrong.

My parents. I love them more than anything. I really do. You would probably assume that the events of these past two-ish years would make me realize how important it is to appreciate whom you have, and it definitely has. For the first few months after we were all together again, I could not bring myself to leave their side. My mother in particular. Now, there's this heavy feeling weighing me down. This deep hole in my heart filled to the brim with guilt. I can't help but blame myself for all of it. I mean, it was mostly my dad who dragged us out here, but in the end I can't help but feel it was me. All me. We didn't all have to die in this house. I took my own fucking life and the second I did so I was stuck here for . . . who knows how long. That was punishment enough. But the world thought otherwise and said "Hey Violet, here are your parents as well, make them suffer too." So most of the time, as hard as it is, I don't let them see me. I don't deserve that happiness.

And then there's Tate. The mere thought of his name disgusts me, though not as much as it used to. The last time I spoke to him was when I said goodbye all those months ago. Back when he was literally going to kill that boy just so I would have someone. See, he knew then. He knew I would never forgive him, never talk to him again. Yet he has tried to talk to me more than once. Right now, I feel as though if he tried to talk to me I would give in. I see him sometimes. He's almost always alone. And even though he's done all of these terrible things, even though he hurt my mother and me (though not in the same way), I find myself feeling sorry for him. Sorry for him having to live with all these things he's done. I hate myself for it. But I can relate. The things I've done, my level of horrendous behavior, they're not even on the same plain, but I can still relate. I hurt for him. I really do.

This is my life now. A constant cycle of self-loathing and guilt and realization. Some people get to escape their mistakes, if only for a little while. Not me. I'm stuck here, in this house built entirely out of mistakes. I know this. Yet, I'll go to bed tonight and pray to whomever that I can wake up tomorrow and actually wake up. I'll probably even check, too, and make sure that I'm still dead. Because through all of this, I still have a teeny-tiny shred of hope left. I don't know how long that shred will last, but for now it's there, and for now that's all I have.

**Author's Note: First off, I know right now that I need to work on getting into Violet's head and sounding like her. It may take me a few tries/chapters, but I'll get there! Anyways, I hope you liked it. I might continue with it, I'd really like to, but it could work as a one shot, too. So if you enjoyed it/wouldn't mind reading more, let me know. I have a few good ideas; it's all about getting them down right and making them flow.**


End file.
